


Holding On and Letting Go

by Inkribbon796



Series: Masks and Maladies [93]
Category: Markiplier fandom - Fandom
Genre: Familial Angst, Gen, slight angst, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:54:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26402227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkribbon796/pseuds/Inkribbon796
Summary: Dark and the Host have a little heart to heart.
Series: Masks and Maladies [93]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538131
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Holding On and Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> What’s this? Not a Lost Ones chapter? Well this is to tide everyone over until I get done with all the chapters but I wanted an update up. So here’s a slight touch of angst.  
> Chapters for the Lost Ones will be released tomorrow and maybe Saturday.

Dark was sitting across the table from the Host. An untouched, still hot mug of coffee by the Host, and half a scotch glass by Dark. Dark’s head was in his hands as he fought that bubble of insurmountable grief trying to take over.

“I never wanted him hurt,” Dark said, his voice cracked a little bit. “Why couldn’t he just listen to me?”

“The Author was never known for his good choices,” the Host agreed. “The Host regrets being the one to recount the sordid tale to him.”

“And you’re sure it was  _ him _ ,” Dark growled. “That bastard can’t stop taking things from me, he had to take Arthur as well.”

“The Host is as sure it was the Actor, as his narrations are. While the Host was not present for the event, the narrations speak for themselves.”

“I wish I could have known what he was doing, I would have stopped him,” Dark sighed.

“It merely would have slowed the process,” the Host corrected. “Actor or not, adoption or not, the Author would have found himself against the unforgiving walls of reality, thrown himself against them, and died. He was a bit of a self-important maniac.”

Dark let out a little wry, sad chuckle that almost gave itself to full blown grief before he could stop himself.

“The Host wishes that Dark would not do so,” the Host interrupted.

“What?” Dark asked in confusion.

“The Host knows that Dark is attempting to hold back his grief, he should not do so,” the Host answered. “The Entity has been chasing the Author’s trail for years only to find out that his son is dead. Grief is naturally all he feels. The Entity knows it, the Host knows it.”

Dark felt almost like an additional weight piled on top of him. “Was he in pain?”

“Excruciatingly,” the Host reported. “It was the first thing the Host knew when he awoke from the Author’s surgery. He was very kindly given a stronger dose of morphine.”

“I wish I could have been there,” Dark decided. “I might not have been able to do anything, but it would have at least been there.”

“The Host was glad for the time to discover himself,” Host smiled.

“Your doctor,” Dark tried to change the subject. “I want to meet him.”

“And the Host declines,” the Host smiled. “The Entity has already met him and does not ever need to see him again.”

Something other than grief bubbled in Dark’s twin souls. He managed a shallow smile, “Which is it? It’s Iplier isn’t it? Schneeplestein, somehow doesn’t seem your type. They’re both a bit old for you.”

“Cease,” Host told him, bracing his hands on the table. “The Entity is making fun of the Host.”

“I know where he works, I know he lives at their base, I can find him any day of the week,” Dark reminded.

“If the Entity knows what’s good for him,” the Host began to threaten, “he will not meddle in the Host’s relationship.”

“We’ll see about that,” Dark warned, and stood. He produced a little bronze star and walked over to the Host. “Before you do leave, I need to pin this on you.”

“Ahh,” the Host’s narrations helpfully warning him and keeping him still as Dark pinned it to the underside of one of his jacket lapels, hiding it from sight. “Yes, the Entity’s little trackers. The Host is fine without it.”

“I’d feel better if you kept it on, and this one is a little more exact than Arthur had,” Dark admitted. “Arthur’s in my safe, you get one of your own.”

The Host reached up to touch the little star, “The En— . . . The Entity did not have to do that.”

“You’re a new person and I need to treat you as such,” Dark corrected as he sat on the table. Then he added, “Any chance you could get Kay to wear his?”

“The Host has a better likelihood of getting Illinois to change sides,” Host smiled and stood up, taking his coffee with him. “Now the Host must get back before the heroes realize he’s gone.”

Before Dark could make a conscious choice, his aura reached out to grab the Host.

The Host used his still free hand to bring the coffee mug closer to his mouth, “The Entity must let the Host go, this isn’t the last time they will meet.”

“No, it’s just,” Dark tried to deflect. “I don’t trust the heroes. I don’t trust them to keep you safe.”

“The Host is in more than capable hands,” the Host reassured.

“Is he working with them?” Dark’s tone became bitter again.

“No,” the Host had a similar look of distaste on his face. “The Actor’s ego would not permit himself to work with others. To him the heroes are nothing but a prelude to himself. He is waiting to make himself seen.”

“Alright, as long as they’re not working with him, I can deal with that,” Dark began to slowly release the Host.

Then he opened up a portal that led to the front door of the heroes’ base. “You will use that if he shows up,” Dark told him. “That’s an order, not a request.”

“The Host is not at major risk to the Actor, but he will,” the Host promised.

Then he was gone and the Entity brought himself to his office, locking it and going over old pictures. All of the ones he flipped through contained a young boy whose eyes had begun to turn golden as his talent for writing, and then his bloodlust, grew. But to Dark, Arthur was a bittersweet child. Frustration and love mixed together in a dangerous cocktail. To him the Author was never the threat he should have been.

And the grief was almost too much for him to bear.


End file.
